


Power and Responsibility

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Power Dynamics, Season/Series 02, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon isn't interested in submitting to Blake; Blake isn't interested in submitting to Avon. Neither of them are going to get what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power and Responsibility

He hadn’t meant to kiss Blake, and Avon knew it was a mistake almost as soon as he’d done it. There was a brief moment when Blake stiffened in surprise, his lips opening on instinct enough for Avon’s tongue to push into his mouth, and then, just as Avon was about to press him back into the corridor wall, Blake gained enough grasp of what was about to happen to do that to him instead. One of Blake’s hands had automatically cradled the back of Avon’s head so it didn’t crack into the wall, but Avon’s bad back groaned as it hit the hard surface. Blake had pressed in close, all of his considerable weight holding Avon in place.

At that point, Avon realised the error in his calculations. Kissing Blake was both much better - the heady smell of him overwhelming now, his lips softer even than they looked and his body harder - and about as bad as Avon had expected. Ever the aggressive and irresistible dictator, Blake had seized control of the situation almost immediately. Avon could barely move, let alone fight back, even assuming he wanted to. And he did want to - distantly. If only because Blake had seized control of the situation.

Unfortunately, much like Blake out on one of his missions of destruction, Avon found it was almost impossible to break away from a course of action he'd already decided on. It was going horribly wrong, but that just made him more determined to make it right. There would, he thought hazily as he dug his fingers into Blake's hair, be a moment to turn the tables. He just had to identify it. 

He shoved his hips forward in the hope of pushing Blake back into the opposite wall, and Blake chuckled into Avon's mouth and pushed back until his erection was crushed up against Avon's. Without him thinking about it, Avon's hands pulled Blake's arse in even closer and he ground his own hips forward. Blake groaned and pushed back, his forehead dropping briefly down to Avon's cheek. 

Avon pushed his fingers under the edge of Blake's tunic and scrabbled up towards the edge of Blake's trousers as Blake's head came back up to kiss him again. He watched the future spool out before him as Blake finally left Avon's mouth to fend for itself and bent to quickly and efficiently pull Avon's trousers down to his boots. What would happen next was that Blake would make him turn to face the wall, and fuck him against it. Or if he was lucky, Blake would only take him in his mouth and suck Avon off as Avon tried to convince himself that Blake was a suppliant at his feet and Blake grinned around his cock and listened to him whimper. 

And Avon knew he would like it however Blake chose to fuck him. Oh god, yes, he would like it. And then he would be less able to resist next time Blake kissed him, it would be easier for Blake, Blake would know how completely he owned Avon, Avon would-

" _Blake,_ " he said warningly as Blake's fingers curled under the edges of his underwear, his fingernails rough against the skin of Avon's stomach.

Blake looked up, his face charmingly surprised at the harsh note in Avon's voice. He was off balance, mentally and physically. This was the moment, Avon realised. This was the moment to either pull away or regain control: make his hastily conceived plan work if there was still a fifty-fifty chance that he would survive.

Blake's lips were wet and his trousers, which Avon hadn't managed to shed for him, were distended over his cock. “Yes, Avon?" he said, his voice calm and level and controlled, and Avon leaned down and shoved him backwards with two hands firm against Blake's shoulders. 

Blake hit the floor in an undignified sprawl, and Avon let his momentum carry him down on top of Blake. Again, there was a brief moment where he pushed his tongue into Blake's mouth and reached down to unzip Blake's trousers. Blake's shoulder came up in a futile attempt to roll him over onto his back and Avon pressed him back down. He bit down gently on Blake's lower lip and dragged his teeth backwards. 

Then Blake finished what he'd started up against the wall and managed to get his hand into Avon's underwear. Blake's hand around his cock was a revelation that made all the earlier touches through cloth feel like the warm-up they had always been. Blake's hand was around his cock, _Blake's_ hand, and it was moving in quick, jerky strokes against his stomach. Avon thrust into it, pressing loose kisses against Blake's mouth, and almost didn't notice when Blake's shoulder came up again. 

Then there was a rough twist and Avon's back was against the floor, one of Blake's legs between his, Blake's weight half-supported by one of Blake's hands splayed on the ground next to Avon's head as the rest of him pressed down on Avon's right shoulder and hip. Blake's other hand, freed now, moved faster on Avon's cock and Blake breathed against his neck, which was somehow the most erotic part of the whole affair. Avon's eyelashes flickered shut and he could hear himself whimpering. As expected that caused Blake to laugh, although it was more breathless than it had been in Avon's imagination.

"Yes, that's right, Avon," Blake whispered, his beautiful patrician voice rough and intimate against Avon's ear. "God, yes. _Come for me."_

That was too much.

 _"Stop,"_ Avon demanded. It sounded feeble, so he said it again, _"Stop,"_ and pushed at Blake's chest with a shaking hand.

"You don't want me to stop," Blake voice said, warm and amused.

"Wrong, as usual, Blake," Avon said. " _Stop._ Blake-" He refused to beg, because it would undoubtedly sound to Blake's ears like what it was - a plea for Blake to continue, rather than to stop. "Unless you want everyone on the flight deck to know what we're doing. I'm not too proud to scream."

Blake looked up and down the corridor, his mouth a surprised O and his tongue caught between his teeth. Doubtlessly he had forgotten they were only a few metres away from a room where Vila was trying to find something that wasn't watching the monitors to interest him while Jenna and Cally finished up their chess game. Blake looked back down at him and Avon raised his eyebrows. Blake inclined his head in a 'yes, I suppose so' sort of gesture, and slid off him.

"Let's go to my cabin," he suggested as Avon pulled his trousers back up and fastened them uncomfortably over his erection.

"You can go wherever you like," Avon told him. "But I am going to my cabin."

"Fine," Blake said. "It's further away, but if you prefer-"

"I apologise," Avon said.

“That’s quite all right," Blake said magnanimously.

"I should have been clearer," Avon continued, with a smile he knew to be infuriating. “You can go wherever you like, except my cabin to which you have not been invited. And you never will be," he added, making his voice pleasant and vague. “Excuse me.”

He turned for his cabin, trying to ignore the way his trousers felt painfully tight and his heart was still beating at a ridiculous pace.

He’d hoped Blake would be too angry or confused to follow him, but unfortunately Blake was nothing if not persistent. “You kissed _me,_ " he pointed out.

“A mistake," Avon said, without slowing his pace.

 _“Really,"_ Blake said. “And what about when you tackled me to the ground? Or when you tried to force your hand into my trousers?”

“You don’t like it when I catalogue your errors of judgement, Blake. I fail to see why you think I should respond favourably to it.”

“Because I don’t believe you," Blake snarled, pushing Avon back against a different part of the corridor wall with one strong hand. “I thought you were finally willing to admit your feelings for me-”

“ _My_ feelings for _you_?" Avon demanded. “I see I must have _imagined_ your hand in _my_ trousers-”

“ _Yes_ , I return your feelings," Blake said, like an vicious accusation, and Avon’s breath caught in his throat even though he knew Blake would be able to see it. Blake’s face was dark with anger, which was unfortunately a very attractive look on him. “That’s not really the point, is it, Avon?" Blake continued. _“I thought_ we were connecting, _I thought_ we were going to be able to act on that and spend at least the next few hours making love. I didn’t expect even you to start denying it had happened while it was actually happening." He tightened his fingers in Avon’s jacket and shook him. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

 _“This,"_ Avon said, smacking Blake’s hand away from his shoulder. “Even if I were hypothetically interested in sleeping with you-”

Blake snorted with disbelief. _“Hypothetically?”_

“All right," Avon snapped as Blake paced away. _“Yes,_ I’m interested in sleeping with you-”

“You astonish me," Blake said, with a quick, sarcastic glance back in his direction.

“But I am not, nor will I ever be, interested in submitting to you," Avon told him, having managed to level out his breathing. “Not on the flight deck, not on the floor of this corridor, and certainly not in my cabin, which is the one place I currently have to escape you.”

Blake turned to look at him. He’d had the edge of one of his fingers in his mouth, and now he lowered it to stare unimpeded at Avon. He looked lost and confused. Unfortunately this was also an attractive look on him. “That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“You did ask," Avon told him.

“You think I _want_ to control you?”

“Don’t you?" Avon retorted.

Blake’s eyebrows creased even further together. “No," he said in apparent disbelief. “I want you to help me bring down the Federation, yes, but I’ve never forced you to do anything. All you had to do was say no at any time.”

“That’s a very simplistic way of looking at things," Avon told him. 

He turned to leave again, but Blake caught him by the elbow. _"Avon-"_ Avon looked pointedly down at the hand on his arm, and Blake removed it in exasperation. “I really don’t want to control you, or anyone at all for that matter. I _like_ that you disagree with me.”

“No, you don’t," Avon said instinctively, and Blake grinned as though Avon was flirting with him. Avon made a face to disguise the fact that he had been.

“All right," Blake admitted, with a sideways incline of his head, “not while it’s happening, but - ideologically. I think you’re good for me.”

“How wonderful," Avon said. “Just what I’ve always wanted. The opportunity to make you feel better about yourself. Have you finished?”

“Fine," Blake said, holding up his hands. “Have it your own way then, Avon. I can see that everything I could possibly say is going to be wrong.”

“Ah," Avon said. He smiled. “Now, at last, Blake, we are connecting.”

Blake stabbed a finger at him. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want you to submit to me. I don’t want to dominate you. I don’t want command and I never have. One day the revolution will be over and I will quietly resign. Let someone else take charge for once. Frankly I’d welcome it." He exhaled irritably and his eyes flicked to Avon, as though to be certain Avon knew he was the cause of this irritation. “It’s not like being in charge has ever done me any good.”

Avon watched Blake turn on his heel and stride off down the corridor. He turned back to his door and pressed the access panel, then glanced back at Blake’s receding figure and smiled.

 _Interesting,_ he thought.

*

“This is Blake," Blake’s voice said through the flight deck intercom. “Is... ah, anyone there?" He was trying to keep his voice calm, but they all heard the hitch in his voice. Jenna left the pilot’s seat, but Avon had been expecting the call and was much closer.

He pressed the intercom button. “We hear you, Blake," he said, much more calmly than Blake had managed. “Jenna, Vila, Cally and I are all here. What is your message?”

“I’m in Subcontrol Room One," Blake said, his voice harsh. “There’s been some sort of malfunction. Get down here now.”

“What," Avon said, pretending to be confused, “all of us?”

"Blake, is everything all right?” Jenna asked over Avon’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine," Blake’s voice said. “And no, not everyone. Just Avon. The rest of you go back to whatever you’re doing.”

“But perhaps we could help,” Cally suggested. “If there’s a technical fault, I have assisted Avon on numerous-”

“ _Just_ Avon," Blake repeated. “And hurry up, damn it.”

Avon gave the others a thin smile. Behind the smooth, dark-grey leather covering his chest, his heart had begun to beat rapidly. “It must be so difficult to be Blake," he remarked. “You see, he doesn’t want to order us around. But circumstances conspire against him.”

“Changed your name?” Vila asked.

“What?" Avon said.

“That’s your game, isn’t it? Conspiring, I mean.”

“Not at all," Avon said, with a smile. “I have always been very open about my dislike of Blake’s leadership. Besides, whom would I conspire with? I’d hoped to stand by better policies than more soma for disgruntled deltas, reduced importation duties on hairspray,” he said turning to Jenna, who rolled her eyes, “and-” He turned to Cally. Cally raised her eyebrows and Avon realised that, with his mind on Blake, he was actually unable to think of anything he could mock kind and sensible Cally for wanting.

He shrugged and left the flight deck before any of them could retort or ask him what he would have demanded for himself. Out in the corridor, he didn’t exactly run, but he walked briskly, hearing his hasty footsteps beating a rhythm only slightly slower than that of his heart. 

The door to Subcontrol Room One was shut. Avon pressed the door-release button and it slid open. 

_“At last,"_ Blake snapped as Avon stepped into the room. “Get me out of this.”

He was restrained against the wall by two thick coils of wiring. One emerged from the wall about knee height and had wrapped itself around Blake’s left leg and then reached up to snake around his left hand, while the other began with a tight hold around his right wrist and then wrapped around his arm before it disappeared down the front of his shirt. Blake didn’t seem to be afraid this time, either because he had survived the last time the Liberator coils had attacked him, or because these coils weren’t live and sparking. He looked angry and flushed. 

“The Liberator seems to have taken a liking to you," Avon said, with only a quick glance at Blake as he crossed towards the main console. Unfortunately one quick glance had been long enough. The image of Blake bound to the wall, eyes blazing and shirt already half unzipped, had apparently burned into his retinas. Avon blinked several times and looked back down at the console.

“The coils grabbed me as soon as I came in here," Blake explained. “It took ten minutes just to reach the intercom.”

“I would imagine the more you struggle, the tighter they become," Avon said.

“That makes sense," Blake said and Avon heard him breathe out, clearly trying to relax his muscles. “You can tell all that from the programme, can you?”

“Not exactly," Avon said. He turned back to Blake and smiled. “I wrote the programme.”

“You _what?"_ Blake roared, and surged forward towards him. The coil down the front of Blake’s shirt pushed its way out through the gap between the shirt and his trousers, curled back up under his collar and pulled itself outwards. The shirt tore with an audible rip that sent shivers through Avon’s nervous system.

“You won’t free yourself like that," Avon told him pleasantly.

“ _You_ did this?" Blake demanded. 

“You sound surprised," Avon said as the moving coil straightened out again before snaking down and around Blake’s waist. “I remind you of two relatively recent events. One - the last time we were in a situation like this, I risked my life to save you, and you said-”

“No deal," Blake said. He wrenched his hand forward, and the coil around his waist slid between his legs.

“ _That_ is one I owe you," Avon corrected. “I said I would remind you of it, and now I am.”

“And I said, no deal," Blake said. “Now get me out of this, Avon.”

“Two," Avon said as Blake tried futilely to move his hips in a way that would escape the coil, rather than rub himself off against it. “And this one was yesterday, so I assume even you will remember it.” The coil curled up, slid in under the waistband of Blake’s trousers, and Blake stiffened against the wall. “You said that you would welcome someone else taking charge for once.”

“ _After_ the revolution was over," Blake snarled.

“And when do you think that will be?" Avon asked, stepping closer to him. Blake’s jaw clenched. “Personally I doubt we will ever succeed, which would put the date of your surrender at approximately never.”

“Whatever the timescale," Blake said, obviously trying hard to control his voice, “whatever you believe about my plans, Avon, I _never_ asked to be raped by my own ship and you know it.” The fight had gone out of him slightly. He breathed deeply through flaring nostrils, and turned his head to one side so he wasn’t looking directly at Avon any more. 

Avon glanced down, head on one side. The tendons in Blake’s neck were rigid with tension, his exposed chest rising and falling with each breath as he tried not to respond to the coil caressing him inside his trousers. But his hips were spasming minutely, like a heartbeat. 

Avon looked back at his neck and considered licking him - one long slide up from Blake’s collarbone to his jaw. But only for a moment. Blake was right - it had gone too far, and Avon was close to losing the high ground.

He moved away from Blake, back over to the console. Blake was trying to steady his breathing, but Avon could still hear him trembling with rage and probably unwanted arousal. He pulled a laser probe out of his jacket and slid it into the console at the point that would disconnect that subroutine. 

_“And the rest,"_ Blake said as the coil that had been groping him lifted away and wrapped around his shoulders instead.

Avon bared his teeth as he turned. “Tell me, Blake, have you ever thought about asking for what you want, rather than simply demanding it?”

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists," Blake said. 

Avon eyed him steadily. That was probably a joke, which meant that Blake was possibly willing to play after all now that the third party was out of the picture. He raised his eyebrows and closed in on Blake again, and Blake kicked out with his free leg in the direction of Avon’s crotch. 

The coil responded instantly, dragging the offending limb back against the wall. Blake grunted slightly as his heel collided with the metal and Avon laughed, delighted. It wouldn't have been worth doing if Blake hadn't fought it. He pressed up into Blake’s space, splaying his hands either side of Blake’s head within the area described by Blake’s bound arms. 

“I am what you made me," he told Blake. “Take responsibility.”

“Fuck off, Avon," Blake told him, meeting his gaze again with a glare.

Avon laughed once, briefly. “What about friends?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Or lovers," Avon said, pressing a kiss to the edge of Blake’s jaw. Unable to resist any longer, he did finally lick Blake’s neck, feeling Blake’s pulse shuddering beneath his tongue. He dropped slowly to his knees, looking up at Blake as he did so. “Do you negotiate with them? Or do you, as I suggested the other day, feel you should be allowed to control everything about any encounter?”

Almost lazily, he reached up to undo the fastenings on Blake’s trousers, trying not to touch the shape of Blake’s erection, which was straining towards him. That would be too much. He would do that only if Blake allowed it.

“You definitely wanted to have sex with me yesterday,” he said, pulling the trousers down slowly. “I think you even called it making love,” he said and smiled whimsically. Blake apparently favoured a loose boxer short, something that did not surprise Avon. He ran his hand up through the hairs on Blake’s leg and curled his fingers into the waistband of the boxer shorts, pulled outwards gently, and down. 

He hadn’t had any doubt that Blake was aroused, but, as with the hand around his own cock, there was a world of difference between knowing what something would be like objectively and knowing it through experience. Blake’s cock was inches from his face, hot and hard and damp with pre-come. Avon licked his lips without thinking about it, and then realised Blake was watching him and did it again on purpose. Blake made a face, but his cock had twitched, so it was a fairly unconvincing display of disinterest.

“I won’t force you,” Avon told him. “I’m not even asking you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I’m asking is that the first time be like this. My way, not yours.”

Blake shut his eyes. He breathed in - and nodded once. “Go on then,” he said quietly, and Avon’s heart shuddered in his throat. This was it. It was happening. 

He leant forward, looked up at Blake, who still had his eyes closed, and licked the tip of Blake’s cock. It tasted like salt, not unexpectedly, and above him, quite unexpectedly, Blake’s breath caught in what was almost a whimper. Avon licked him again, sliding his tongue around the head of Blake’s cock and then took all of that head into his mouth. He sucked gently and flicked his tongue against the tip again, and there were more shuddering, pained breaths from Blake. 

Avon knew he should do this slowly and unforgettably brilliantly, but the sound and sensation of Blake coming apart _in his mouth_ was the kind of thing to make any man forget any sort of plan. He pushed his mouth down, hard and fast, relaxing his throat as much as possible to take in as much of Blake as possible, as quickly as possible.

“Fuck," Blake murmured, as Avon began bobbing his head, “fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” 

Avon reached up and slid his hands between Blake’s arse and the wall, so he could control the movement of Blake’s hips.

“Put,” Blake said hoarsely, “your finger in me...”

That was enough to throw Avon off. He pulled away and stared up at Blake, knowing his lips were wet and his pupils must be enormous and dark. 

“ _Please,_ ” Blake said grudgingly, and Avon, who hadn’t been expecting or demanding any such thing, who had only stalled for a moment at the thought of having a part of himself _in Blake_ , raised his eyebrows. Blake looked awkward and embarrassed and incredibly desirable for a moment and then he scowled. “Well, if we _are_ going to do this-”

Avon grinned slowly and reached for the lubricant he’d brought with him back when he’d been unable to decide whether he wanted to suck Blake off, or fuck him, or be fucked by him. The answer, really, was all of them, but there had to be a first time and he was so incredibly, indescribably, headily pleased with how it was going. He slicked the first three fingers of his right hand just in case and brought the hand up between Blake’s legs. Blake’s hands clenched around the coils in preparation, relaxed and then tightened again as Avon’s wet finger found the pucker of his anus. Avon circled it for a moment, and then pushed slowly in. 

Blake was desperately tight, and so soft. At some point, Avon thought dizzily, he would have his cock in here, held firmly in the grip of Blake’s body. And until then - until then Blake was biting down on the edge of one of his own hands as his arse muscles tensed around Avon’s finger. His cock was still just inches from Avon’s face, and Avon leant forward again, pulling Blake’s hips forward with the finger buried inside him. Blake groaned, “ _Fuck,_ Avon,” again as Avon’s lips closed around him. It was so incredibly gratifying, so much better than he could possibly have imagined. Avon sucked hard and pulled back and then forward again. He pushed a second finger into Blake and then a third, circling his tongue around the cock in his mouth and swallowing as Blake swore uninventively several times through his hand, his voice growing steadily thicker until at last, with a groan, he came. 

Avon swallowed again and sat back dreamily on his heels to look up at Blake. 

Blake was still recovering. He lay limply between the coils, his chest heaving between the torn edges of his shirt, his head resting against the hand he’d been biting. Avon stood. He was slightly unsteady as his legs had cramped without him noticing, and his own erection hadn’t been dealt with, but he didn’t need to go far. He cupped his left hand around the back of Blake’s head and drew him into a kiss. After a moment, Blake kissed back gently, then he twisted his head away, so his forehead was still resting against Avon’s even if their lips were no longer touching. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avon murmured. He was desperate for Blake to jerk him off, but wasn’t quite sure that Blake was docile enough that he could afford to free one of Blake’s wrists. He was even more desperate for Blake to fuck him, but that would require even more freedom, and time Avon didn’t want to wait for Blake to recover in.

Blake chuckled low in his throat. “I assume all this was some sort of metaphor,” he said, inches from Avon’s lips. 

“Crude,” Avon agreed, “but effective.” He pressed his hips forward against Blake’s still-naked thigh and rubbed gently against him, vaguely hoping Blake wouldn’t notice. The friction was heaven against his aching cock. 

“It doesn’t work, though, does it?” Blake said kindly.

Avon stilled. “What doesn’t?” 

“Your metaphor,” Blake said. He sighed and moved his head back. “I’ve said before that I wasn’t holding you here. Well, that’s true. In fact, I went out of my way not to offer you any inducements to stay. This one in particular.”

“What do you mean?”

"Avon, I’ve wanted you since the first time you laughed on the flight deck," Blake explained, as though it were obvious. “And I've been in love with you since - oh, I don't know. Not too long after that. Possibly since you pulled me out of the way of that explosion. A long time, anyway. Why do you think I didn’t make a move on you before you jumped me? Cowardice? Celibacy, perhaps.”

“A desire not to play favourites," Avon suggested, though he was beginning to suspect something had gone horribly wrong and he just hadn’t noticed it yet.

“To some extent,” Blake admitted as the coils began to disentangle themselves from his relaxed body. “But _mostly,_ Avon, most of all I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me because I was in love with you. So I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to stay with me because you were in love with me, either. You deserve the chance to choose for yourself, and for the right reasons.”

“Too late,” Avon said quietly, and wrenched away from him. The elation and arousal he’d felt moments ago seemed to have drained away almost without him noticing it. Now, he just felt disgusted with himself and with Blake, who had so magnanimously concealed his feelings up until this point to protect Avon. 

"I know," Blake said. "I'm sorry. I've known for a while. Your behavior on Exbar last week merely confirmed it.” Avon grimaced, even though he knew Blake couldn’t see his face. Blake hadn’t said anything specifically about Exbar in the week since it had happened, and so Avon had hoped, foolishly and over-optimistically, that he never would.

“The fact that I knew we were both emotionally involved," Blake continued, "and that it was too late to pretend otherwise isn't the main reason I kissed you back yesterday, but it is one I don't mind admitting.” There was a smile in his voice as he said, “Who says I can’t change my plans while they’re in progress?"

"What was the main reason?" Avon asked, half-turning towards him. 

Blake was now almost completely free of the coils. As Avon watched, the last section unwrapped itself from around Blake's wrist. Blake flexed his hand experimentally. "Animal lust," he told Avon, meeting his eyes steadily. 

Avon grinned slightly, before another fresh wave of disgust at himself for being so easily manipulated washed over him, and he had to turn away to stop himself watching Blake get dressed. 

_God, I’m pathetic,_ he thought, leaning against the control console for support. _I should leave today to show him how addictive his love isn’t._

Blake put a hand on his shoulder and Avon almost leant into it as he turned. He was not expecting Blake’s other fist to hurl towards his face and did not duck. White hot pain splintered through his nose. Avon gasped, blinking, and stumbled backwards.

“What the _hell_ was that for?” he demanded.

“Take a wild guess,” Blake retorted. 

Avon took a swing at him, but Blake was expecting it, and he pushed Avon’s fist away with one hand and slammed him back against the wall with the other. 

“And another thing,” he said, voice low, “I don’t deny that I may, on occasion, abuse the power I have in order to further the cause of freedom. It’s wrong and I shouldn’t do it, I agree, but if I do it then it is for a good reason and by accident. That is not the same thing as seizing power with the specific intention of abusing it, which is what you did to me today. Do you understand?”

 _“You could have said no,”_ Avon told him in a vicious parody of Blake’s own defence, and, for a moment, he thought Blake was going to hit him again. 

_“I expect better,”_ Blake said firmly. “I expect better _from you,_ Avon. Do you understand? I want you to be better.”

“I’m _sure_ you do," Avon said spitefully, hoping it would stand in for a more cutting retort until he could think of one. He dabbed at his nose, which didn’t seem to be bleeding or broken, but still hurt. 

Blake let go of him. He sighed. “Just - _try_ and be worthy of the fact that I’m crazy about you, Avon. Meanwhile," he shrugged, “I’ll try and be worthy of the way you feel about me.”

“Oh, go to hell," Avon retorted as the door to the corridor closed behind Blake. But he knew Blake was right, and he hated him almost as much as he loved him for saying it.


End file.
